"To secure our claim. Mother's homesteaded one hundred and sixty acres
of this land."

"What in the world are you goin' to do with it?"

"We'll farm some of it, of course, an' we'll find some use for another
part after awhile, I guess."

Then Mr. Bolton changed his tactics. He tried to discourage the boy by
telling him that it was railroad land, and even if it wasn't, his own
adjacent claim took it all in anyway; Rupert did not scare, but said, "I
guess not," as he went on quietly fitting and pounding.

The man had to give it up. "That Ames kid" had gotten the best of him.

This was four years ago, and wonderful changes had taken place since
then. Rupert had begun work on his reservoir the spring after they had
taken possession. He had a most beautiful site for one; and when the
melting winter snows and spring rains filled Dry Hollow creek, most of
it was turned into the Basin. It slowly spread out, filled the deep
ravines, and crept up to Rupert's embankment. Then he turned the stream
back into its natural channel again. Many came to look at the wonder.
Some of his neighbor "dry-benchers" offered to join him and help him for
a share in the water. The reservoir could be greatly enlarged, and the
canal leading from it around the side-hills to the bench had yet to be
dug; so Rupert and his mother accepted the offers of help and the work
went on rapidly. The next year Dry Bench had water. New ground was
broken and cleared. Trees were set out. There was new life on the farm,
and new hopes within the hearts of Widow Ames and her children.